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Page 17:-
Thence I came to th' Bell at Leicester,
Where strong Ale my Brains did pester;
First Night besure I was admitted,
By the Watchmen I was whipped,
Black and Blue like any Tetter,
Beat I was to make me better.
Thence to Gotham, where, sure am I,
Though not all Fools, I saw many;
Here a She-gull found I prancing,
And in Moon-shine nimbly dancing:
There another wanton mad one,
Who her Hog was set astride on.
Thence to * Nottingham, where Rovers,
Highway Riders, Sherwood Drovers,
Like old Robinhood, and Scarlet,
Or like Little John his Varlet;
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*
Brave Mortimer's now dead, his Glory Dust,
His Courts are clad with Grass, his Hall with Rust:
His Stairs steep Steps, his Horse-troughs Cisterns are,
Worms his Embraces, Kisses Ashes share.
Time cries, I eat, and Echo answers it:
But gone, e'er to return, is held unfit.
O Heroes! of these Heroes take a View,
They're to their Fathers gone, and so must you!
Of better Clay you are not than these Men,
And they are dead, and you must follow them.
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